


A Gleam Of Sunshine

by Nyresnuger



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cheesy, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lazy Days, M/M, Post Recall, Sappy, Staying In Bed, again; its very mild but just to be sure, hey whats up I am deeply enthralled by Lúcio and it really shows, its real sweet people, toothrotting horrible fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyresnuger/pseuds/Nyresnuger
Summary: It's not often they have days off. It's not often they get to just exist, together
Relationships: Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Genji Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	A Gleam Of Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This scene showed up in my head and yelled loudly until I wrote it out. Sometimes you just got to drop everything and write something Soft and Self-indulgent about The Boys; I dont make the rules
> 
> Come yell at me on my tumblr; https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nyresnuger

It’s not often they have time off to simply exist in each other’s company. Life on base is hectic and busy. Turns out illegally saving the world is a fulltime job and then some.

The few times they do get are spend doing nothing in particular. Treks along the rocky shorelines near base, climbing the watchtowers to watch the sun set over the ocean, stealing and booting up one of McCrees old western movies on the common room TV, then promptly falling asleep (Lúcio first, arms wrapped around Genjis midsection so he’s left to brush his thumb over his cheek in the blue screen light and feel both immensely heavy and lighter than ever before).

And the times like this. When autumn colors the sunlight itself golden and orange.

It’s streaming through the windows of Lúcios quarters. Genji hasn’t checked the time in what feels like hours, but he’s pretty sure its early afternoon.

Lúcio is solid and relaxed behind him. If you’d told him five, hell, two years ago that one of his favorite past times would be napping besides his boyfriend (they still haven’t talked about exactly what they are, but in this light, Genji lets his mind say the word) he would have laughed on a good day, lashed out violently on a bad one.

He scoots back against him, feels a lacy arm sling over his waist as Lúcio settles in against his back. Lúcios low hum vibrate through his ribcage. The world is soft and fuzzy and warm, for once there’s a feeling of safety and security seeping through every inch of his reality.

Behind him, Lúcio shifts slightly, props himself up on one arm, rotates slightly and lets Genjis head flop against his shoulder. He keeps humming that low, soft tune as he runs his fingers through Genjis hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles and its almost melodical. Genji opens one eye and looks up at him, there’s such pure adoration in Lúcios face he blushes straight through all the mechanical parts of his face that usually restricts excess blood flow.

”It used to be pink”

Lúcio looks down at him, eyebrows slightly raised: “What did?”

Genji raises a hand, the afternoon sun glints in the metallic edges, diffused and golden through the curtains. His fingers bump against Lúcios when he tightens them slightly in his own hair:

“This, used to dye it all the time. It was only partly to rebel against my dad,” a quick little smile dart over his features. Lúcio gives a full-on snort of laughter.

“Bet he was thrilled by that.”

“You should have seen him the first time. I think it was the only time I ever got the last word with him and it was only ‘cause he was shocked,” he smiles slightly at the memory.

“I can imagine,” Lúcio murmurs, leans down to steal a kiss, warm and closemouthed, “he sounds like quite a man.”

“Yeah, he was really something …”

He trails off and the silence hangs between them. For a long, long time, Genji would feel the bile rise, stuffy and thick, in his throat the moment someone mentioned Sojiro. He seems distant now: A painful part of a chapter he’s closed. There’s no need for revenge or anger anymore. He sends a thankful thought to Zenyatta and hope the monk catches it, floating serenely on a mountaintop somewhere probably too cold for biological persons to travel.

“So …” Lúcio pulls him back to reality. He’s pulled away a little further, so he’s practically hovering above him, brown eyes swirling with a mix of concern and curiosity, “what colors did you dye your hair?”

Genji smiles, a wave of giddy fondness wash over him. “Guess,” he grins, pushing himself up to look Lúcio straight in the eye.  
Lúcios soft smile changes into something playful and alert. “Okay, so that’s what we’re doing now.” Genji nods enthusiastically, cracking up slightly when Lúcio twists his face into a caricature of deep thought – audible ‘hmmm’ included.

“Green?” he shoots.

“Obviously.”

“Blue?”

“More of a turquoise actually.”

“Hey, don’t ruin my fun, you said guess so let me guess!”

Genji throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Was just trying to help you.”

He gets a chaste kiss for his trouble, and then one more pressed against his temple when Lúcio manhandles him into laying down again. He ends up with his head on Lúcios chest, slowly rising and falling with his calm breathing. He hears Lúcio hum thoughtfully, feels it rumble through his ribcage. A hand glides through his hair, twists it like he’s considering.

“Blond?”

Genji huffs out a short laugh, can practically feel Lúcio raise one eyebrow in question.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story?”

He strains his neck slightly to look up at him, brushes a wayward dread out of his face.

“It just looked really bad is all.” He saves the little tidbit that it looked bad enough to actually get stern, professional Hanzo to break down laughing in the middle of one of Sojiros Very Important Business Meetings. He’d almost forgotten that episode.

“Purple?”

His eyebrows knit together. “… I think?”

Lúcio leans forward to get eye contact. “Excuse me, you think?”

He meets his eyes and shrug slightly. “I changed it a lot for a while. I think purple was in there?”

Lúcio looks at him. There’s a smile around his mouth, barely there. Just a hint in the lines by the corners. He looks soft. Like he’s a little blurry around the edges, a little less sharp and precise than he has to be out there in the world. Genji sits up slightly, comes close enough for their noses to touch, wrinkles his face and rubs his nose against his. He draws away slowly.

“I bet you looked good,” Lúcio mumurs, then kisses him properly for good measure. Its slow and languid, like the sun glowing through the room. He feels one of Lúcios hands come up and cradle the side of his jaw; first warm against the metal implants, then the temperatures evens out – blends together like the rest of them seem to do.

“Sometimes yeah,” Genji smiles against his lips. He gets a confused little sigh in return, before Lúcio gets it and huffs, then pulls back throwing his head back dramatically.

“Ah you’re so cute you know that?” he places a hand on Genjis chest and pushes him away, then throw the arm across his forehead in a theatrical display, “you’re so sweet and good it’s unbearable! People say you’re dry and boring – no offense – but it’s not true. Its tearing me apart!” he flops down on his back, eyes closed, wiggles in a mockery of writhing in pain for good measure.

“Wow, thanks.”

Genji tries to deadpan, but Lúcio cracks an eye open and sends him a grin so disarmingly charming he can’t carry through.

They stay like that for a long time. The sharp parts of Genjis knees twist in the sheets and for once he doesn’t care if they rip. The sun fades to twilight blue, soft and serene where it flows over Lúcios naked shoulder.

He presses small kisses into the junktion of his neck and shoulder, place them among more little factoids about his life till his lips feel sore and Lúcio’s breathless and quiet.

Genji looks at him, really takes him in. He’s distantly aware of how everything must be written in his face; his reverence and fondness, his utter awe that this man is here with him, his _something warm hiding awfully close to his heart_ he doesn’t dare name.

He looks, and he looks and he looks.

And he knows, deep in his heart, that Lúcio has no idea what he’s talking about when he calls him pretty. He’s never seen beauty, not like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading!
> 
> Please drop by my tumblr, I'm somewhat funny sometimes: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nyresnuger


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